Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  It had been a few hours at least. The ashen mountains to our right—wherein lay Pointe, somewhere amidst the old trees—were backlit by the light of the morning sun, its brilliant rays chasing away the pale light of the evening stars.

  It wasn’t exactly comfortable in the bed of Mabaya’s cart, but at least we were off our feet and moving faster than before, and the gentle scent of lilies managed to permeate slightly from the wide, heavy urns of oil nestled next to us on the cart. Mabaya had covered them with a scratchy burlap tarp, which Arwin had taken as soon as the old woman had moved out of view, repurposing it as a blanket for herself.

  Mabaya’s gaur left behind pungent leavings every so often, so the lily aroma was a welcome relief.

  “We’re probably getting close,” I told her. “Sun’s coming up.”

  Arwin seemed to realize where her head was and sat up abruptly, inhaling sharply as she rose. “Good.” She wiped a trail of drool from her lip and glanced guiltily at my damp arm. “Sorry.”

  “I didn’t even notice,” I lied.

  Thankfully, I hadn’t seen any more riders from Mitbas. It seemed we were beyond the bounds of their law. That was good, because I didn’t know what I would have done if they had come galloping up behind the cart in the darkness. Could Arwin and I have hidden under the blanket? Or inside one of the lily pots? I eyed both items and frowned; either option would’ve been too small to fool a soldier, even at a casual glance.

  Arwin folded up the tarp and stuffed it between a pair of urns. Then she leaned out the side of the cart and banged her fist twice against Mabaya’s small steering coach. “Hey, old woman—”

  “Arwin!” I scolded, but she silenced me with a shove.

  “How close are we to Landis?” she asked.

  Mabaya stuck her wispy-haired head over the side and gave Arwin a disapproving frown. “I’m not that old,” she argued. “Just wise with age.”

  “You must be a genius by now,” Arwin muttered, and I got the impression that Mabaya heard her comment.

  “The city should be visible just over the next rise. Bruha will get us there soon,” the woman added, patting her gaur—who was brown, I could tell, now that I saw it in the light of the sun. The beast of burden groaned in response, its cry low and loud. “We’ll head to the market square, offload these jugs to my local buyer, and maybe pick up something new to take to Cleighton.”

  “You’re coming with us?” I asked. That was news to me. “Well, uh, that’s great!”

  Arwin shot me a dirty look that said I was crazy for wanting to bring an old lady along with us, which would probably slow us down just as the Empire was likely sending our warrants for our immediate arrest. I wasn’t sure how she managed to fit so much into such a brief glare.

  “Cleighton is home to the best forgesmiths in the Empire,” Mabaya said, so closely mirroring Arwin’s words from last night that it was as if she’d come up with them on her own. “It shouldn’t be hard to find someone in need of transport.”

  “So…you’re a smuggler?”

  “Such a crass word for such a noble profession.” Mabaya twisted her head around suddenly, and I looked past her to see the tips of sharp steeples piercing the horizon between the hilltop and the cloudless sky above, which was becoming a lighter and lighter blue by the minute. A moment later, the rest of the buildings came into view, and Arwin gasped.

  Soaring buildings of green brick and yellow-tinted glass rose up as if constructed from the earth itself, molded to the rolling rise and fall of the hills. Sunshine glinted off the bright colors and sent a cascade of light down to the streets below. The cropland and isolated farmhouses gave way to more closely packed houses built with busy thoroughfares in mind. Mabaya slowed her gaur to a crawl as we entered the local traffic. The day was yet young, but Landis was already awake and bustling. Our driver seemed to know her way around the city, though, and she half steered, half coerced the gaur into turning down a side street. The din quieted almost immediately, replaced by shadows and near silence.

  Mabaya pulled the reins up short, slowing the cart to a halt in front of a recessed doorway with steps leading down to a simple red wooden door. The only embellishments were a gold doorknocker and a one-way peephole that gazed out onto the alleyway.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I thought we were going to the market square,” Arwin added.

  Mabaya chuckled. “That was a bit of misdirection, I’m afraid.” She glanced between us with a guilty look before dismounting. “I couldn’t be sure you two weren’t soldiers in disguise.” Her guilt-ridden frown turned into a smirk. “Now I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” I stuttered.

  “Oh, don’t worry, child. Your secret is safe with me. Nobody plans to walk the whole way from Mitbas to Cleighton with naught but the clothes on their backs, not anyone with half a brain and honest intentions, anyway.” Mabaya gave a wicked wink. “None of us are friends of the Empire’s minions. We’ll be thick as thieves because we’re all, well, thieves.”

  “I’m not,” I offered, raising my hand slightly.

  “Only because I got there first,” Arwin said.

  “And I thought you were just a smuggler.”

  “We all have histories, little one. Thieving is a young woman’s game, but I can smuggle and fence till the day I die. Now give me a hand with these jugs.”

  Arwin paused. “You brought us along as hired help?”

  “Minus the coin, yes. Your payment is safe passage as far as Cleighton, assuming you prove your usefulness before then.” She looked meaningfully to the three jugs that hadn’t moved yet. “Which you are failing miserably at so far, I might add.”

  I grinned at the old woman’s attitude, putting Arwin in her place as handily as Answorth used to put food in his stomach. I nearly reached out to pick up one of the jugs, but then remembered the bandages around my arm and shoulder. “I can’t pick it up with one arm,” I said, eyeing the large, heavy pottery.

  Arwin sighed and stretched her arms out wide, gripping the sides of the jug and holding it tight against her chest. Thankfully there wasn’t much to get in the way in that region. “I can hear it sloshing around inside,” Arwin grunted, and I saw that her face was already getting red. I had no idea how much a massive urn of oil weighed, but I was suddenly glad to be infirmed.

  Almost without effort, Mabaya scooped up another jug, leaving just one more on the bed of the cart. “Mal, you can knock on our host’s door,” she said. “Then come back and attend to the cart.”

  “But I—”

  “You don’t want anyone to come by and steal my wares, do you? Not after we’ve come all this way, surely?”

  I frowned at her reasoning. Of course I didn’t want her oil to be stolen, but I also didn’t want to be left alone in an alley in a strange city where Mabaya apparently thought it likely that dangerous thieves might be lurking. I would’ve much preferred to enter through the red door with the security peephole.

  Reluctantly, I nodded and went to knock on the door—three hard raps with my knuckles—and then returned to stand by Bruha, who snuffled at my presence.

  The red door swung open, and a thin man with opulent jewels on his fingers greeted Mabaya warmly. “Baya, blessings upon you,” he said. “I trust your travels went well?”

  “Not entirely uneventful,” Mabaya murmured, and I gave her credit for being able to speak while holding the heavy urn. Arwin looked like she was struggling to breathe beneath the weight. “Shall I tell you more about it inside?”

  “Yes, of course, of course, do come in.” He stepped aside to let Mabaya and Arwin through—he gave Arwin a cursory glance with his attentive eyes—and then he turned his stare on me. I raised a hand and gave a slight smile, nervous worms gnawing away at my intestines. The man closed the door.

  “Great,” I muttered aloud, but if Bruha shared my displeasure, he was keeping stoic about it. He sniffed at the ground and paw
ed a few times, his hoof scraping irritably against the inlaid brick. “Stop that,” I told him.

  He stopped, but more likely because he was done than because he was listening to me.

  I looked back down the way we’d come through the alley. Small, colorful flags hung from strings that hung overhead, spanning the narrow gap between buildings. They had little symbols on them—an almond-shaped eye inside a tall, hollow diamond of gold.

  I raised my good arm and rested my hand against the side of the last remaining jug. The clay felt rough and bumpy beneath my touch, and the oil inside lay still, its aroma just barely seeping through the cork that stoppered the opening at the top of the jug.

  “Hey, kid, whatcha got there?”

  I tried not to let my nerves show as I spun in the direction of the new voice. At the end of the alley stood a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, with a grizzled beard and a long brown duster that draped over his shoulders and fell past his knees. He had an untrustworthy look in his gaze, and his eyes kept darting between me and the jug of lily oil.

  I retracted my hand from the jug and decided to play dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “What are you, thick? I’m askin’ what’s in the jar, meathead.” The rough-looking stranger took another step forward as two more shadows fell across the ground behind him. Another pair of men—older boys, really, judging by the peach fuzz on their jaws—flanked him on both sides, completely blocking up the entrance to the alley.

  “Nothing that’s yours,” I told them. I circled around the cart to take quick steps down the stairs toward the red door, but before I could even reach the stairway, Browncoat took another large step. I suddenly realized how precarious the situation was; there was no way I could knock on the door and get Mabaya and Arwin to respond right away, not before Browncoat got to me or the jug, at which point it would be all over. I couldn’t defend myself with just one arm.

  I could steer a cart, though.

  The thought flashed through my head quicker than lightning, but it stuck harder than paste. I retreated from the stairs and flung myself to the cart, clawing at its wooden sides as I pulled myself into the front carriage where Mabaya had sat less than a quarter hour ago. I gripped the reins in my hand and flicked them sharply, smacking the leather against the solid, dry back of the gaur. “Go, Bruha!”

  The gaur stamped its hoof and shook its head from side to side, but I whipped the reins again and the lumbering beast bucked into action. “Hyah!”

  It was then that I remembered I’d never even ridden a horse, much less steered a gaur-pulled cart.

  The whole thing lurched as if the world were being pulled out from under me, and the yellow bricks of the walls became a blur as we shot off down the alley, away from Browncoat and his two goons. Bruha didn’t seem concerned with the turn coming up ahead, and I clenched my eyes shut as the wall on the opposite end of the bend rapidly approached. My stomach heaved up to one side as Bruha turned sharply, and the cart threatened to tip over and spill me and the remaining jug onto the paved brick ground. At the last second, the cart righted itself, falling back down heavily on its left side as we careened down another alley and then out into the street.

  “Hey!”

  “Drangr, watch it!”

  Cries of protest rose into the air as Bruha dragged us down a crowded thoroughfare, both sides of the street lined with vendors’ stalls. More colorful flags filled the air, draped across and down the street like the long links of sausage Answorth used to hang from the rafters of our home in Pointe.

  His home, I thought bitterly. It was never mine, not really.

  My dark thoughts dissipated as Bruha trampled his way straight through a stacked pile of hay three bushels tall, and I sputtered and coughed as scratchy yellow strands caught in my eyes, nose, and throat. I was sure there were more bits of hay in my hair, but I couldn’t concern myself with them now. “Move out of the way,” I shouted to a few of the townspeople—citypeople?—who stood by, gawking, as the cart bore down on them. I waved my arms frantically, and as if they’d been struck by lightning, they suddenly bolted out of the way. Mabaya’s cart practically dug furrows in the paved road, the wheels were spinning so fast.

  “Bruha, I need you to slow down!” I yelled, but the gaur paid me no heed. I wanted to beat my fists against the animal’s back in frustration, but I knew it would hurt me more than it would hurt him. Instead, I held the reins in one hand and leaped forward over the small barrier at the front of the cart’s cabin, landing directly on Bruha’s broad back.

  The beast snorted again and tossed his head, but his stride didn’t slow.

  “Bruha, stop!” I yanked the reins back hard, the metal bit in his mouth pulled back as far as it would go.

  Metal, I realized.

  It was a desperate stretch, I knew, but Arwin and I had already seen me tame metal back in Mitbas. The hard, cold steel had yielded to my touch as if I’d bent it with the strength of ten men. I didn’t know if I could do it without touching the metal in question, though, and there was no way I was going to bend myself in half and jam my hand deep inside the mouth of a furious, charging animal.

  I tried to envision how it had felt the first time—a cool sensation at the base of my spine, and then a slight queasiness in my stomach…or was that just how I was feeling now from being jostled by Bruha’s stampede? No, it had definitely been there before. My intestines churned ever so slightly, and I felt a tickle run along my back, and then—

  Bruha’s eyes went wide, and steam rose from either side of his mouth.

  Depths take me, what is that?

  I pulled back my hand, willing whatever I was doing to just stop. The world around me came back into focus as Bruha slowed his gait to a crawl, and then a full stop.

  The smoke stopped pouring from the animal’s mouth, and I waited for Bruha to start charging again, but his hooves remained firmly planted, knees locked into position. With a slight tilt of the head, Bruha regarded me with one of his wide, bovine eyes. There was anger in that stare, and pain, too. But also something akin to relief.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I told him, stroking his back and neck. “I don’t even know what I did.”

  Bruha snorted, and I noticed then that there were angry red welts around the corner of his mouth where the bit rested against the skin. The area was clearly irritated, and it took me a second to realize what it was. I’d burned him.

  With the metal? I wondered. I didn’t see how that was possible, but there was no other explanation.

  I dismounted from his back and stroked his face a few more times to let him know how sorry I was. “Oh, Mabaya is going to kill me,” I muttered.

  The sounds around us had changed over the past few frantic minutes, and it was quieter in the area where we stood now. Miraculously, the jug of oil remained unscathed, and there didn’t seem to be any lowlifes nearby looking to take it forcefully off our hands.

  The yellow brickwork of the southern edge of the city had given way to buildings of red brick and, in the case of what I saw before me now, thick concrete blocks. They were stacked one on top of the other with no obvious mortar in sight, yet the structure they formed looked as solid, or even more so, than any other building I’d ever seen. It narrowed as it went up, the final stacks of blocks reaching almost perfectly straight up to the sky far above.

  A pair of sturdy wooden doors marked the entrance to the ziggurat, and a harried-looking man in flowing robes suddenly pushed his way through one door and squinted as sunlight fell into his eyes.

  “Harried-looking, my ass,” the man growled, and his eyes accosted me as if my mere presence were an affront.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I heard you,” the robed man continued. He tapped his head. “In here. But whatever. I’m done with this place.” His footsteps echoed in the open courtyard as he stalked away from the ziggurat, and I just watched in stunned silence as he disappeared down another street.

  The doors to the z
iggurat burst open again and another man’s face appeared, this one looking annoyed and flustered. His searching gaze landed on me and Bruha. “No loitering in the Lord’s court,” he said before slamming the door shut.

  “Well that was weird,” I said, stroking the ridge between Bruha’s eyes.

  He grunted in agreement and nudged me gently with his horn.

  “Aww, he likes you.”

  I whirled around to see Mabaya standing there at the head of the street, Arwin’s slight figure beside her, both silhouetted by the rising sun to the east. “I didn’t steal your cart,” I said immediately.

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “Why’d you disappear, though?” Arwin asked. She was sporting a new bracelet on her wrist that looked expensive.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked, pointing.

  “It was a gift from Nico.”

  “Who?”

  “Children, focus,” Mabaya interrupted. “We have to get this cart back up to Nico, then you can play with your bangles and pray,” she said, gesturing to Arwin and me, respectively.

  “Pray?” I turned my eyes back toward the ziggurat, whose solid oak doors remained unmoved since the outburst of the robed men. “Oh. Is this—?”

  “A temple to the Lord of Clouds, yes.” Mabaya wrapped her fingers around my elbow and pulled me away. “It’s not a place for children.”

  “Hey!” Arwin protested. “We’ve been through more in the past few days than most kids will go through their entire lives!”

  “And we’re not kids,” I added. The stubbly skin of my chin was testament enough to that.

  “Sure you aren’t. Come, Nico is waiting for the final jug, and then we can see about stocking supplies for our trip to Cleighton.”

  I nodded. “Right. All aboard, Arwin.”

  Mabaya took the reins from me and was just about to haul herself up into the driver’s seat when she noticed the angry blisters around Bruha’s mouth. “And what happened here?” she asked slowly, turning to glare at me.